


clutching at purls

by TDoompoet



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Art, Awkward Flirting, Cover Art, Fluff, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Tagging, Inspired by Fanfiction, Knitting, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Unreliable Narrator, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 03:22:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21469252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TDoompoet/pseuds/TDoompoet
Summary: Edge knits. Sans shows up expecting Red. An awkward situation follows.(based on the series 'ain't this the life' by nilchance)
Relationships: Papyrus/Sans (Undertale), Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 117





	clutching at purls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nilchance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nilchance/gifts).
  * Inspired by [ain't this the life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319578) by [nilchance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nilchance/pseuds/nilchance). 

> Edited 11/18/19 for grammar, typos, and changing game-standard type dialogue into regular punctuation.
> 
> (I should not be trusted to edit and publish my own work while rushing to meet a self-imposed deadline)

It was a strange role reversal, Edge being the one home alone to man the fort while Red was out for the day. But, that was just the way their jobs worked every now and then: Edge finding himself off of bodyguard duty when the family of the Ambassador for Monster Kind took some time off away from the embassy, while Red was required to see personally to one of his many informants.

Still, there wasn't any reason to bemoan a day home alone. He finally had the chance to catch up on hobbies that, while not _mocked_ by his brother, were still viewed with the nuance of being "soft," and as such were best avoided while his brother was home and awake to see the activity in question.

(Nevermind that Red had been the first of them to learn the skill, putting in the effort of sleepless nights to gift Edge with the scarf still worn to this day.)

Long, battle-scarred fingers, bare of the usual gloves in the comfort of his own home, absently pushed against the trailing ends of the finished scarf draped around his shoulders. Aged and frayed red ends (never quite pristine, but once more vibrant) attempted to tangle with the current work dangling from the knitting needles carefully maneuvered by his hands.

Safely securing the fabric back behind his neck, the entire effort was almost undone with a jerk of his body towards the front door at the sound of the knob rattling. As the lock turned, only the lack of muffled screams or curses from a victim unsuspecting of the house's invisible security measures allowed him to relax (as much as he ever allowed himself) back into his previous position, content with the knowledge that the visitor was someone welcome. Desired, even. Best not scare them away with too much attention when they were finally growing comfortable coming and going as they pleased.

"Knock, knock," came the familiar soft timber from the slowly opening door. Just enough pressure was forced onto the hinges to creak an announcement of his arrival to anyone who may have missed the obvious joke set up.

"Hello, Sans." The joke was by-passed with fond familiarity, an indulgent smile twitching across his face before focus was split between guest and the project at hand; no sense in delaying progress when Sans was already aware of this particular hobby. The night that particular secret had been cautiously offered in an awkward attempt at bonding was a mixed bag of emotions. That night allowed them the chance to talk one-on-one away from prying eyes (and, presumably, his brother's seemingly endless supply of inconveniently planted listening devices) in the privacy of a late night car drive, but only because Sans was too worn out from a rough Judgement on top of his usual poor health to take one of his oft-used shortcuts home.

There was a slight pause in the process of Sans closing the door, likely from surprise at finding Edge home at this time of day, before he quickly recovered. Door securely locked again, Sans leisurely made his way further into the room before dropping his meager weight onto the couch next to him.

(Edge definitely wasn't holding back a smile at the awkward angle the lazy motion left Sans in, short stature leaving his toes barely ghosting a stubborn carpet stain while his shoulders were in danger of being wedged between couch back and seat cushion. And he _definitely_ wasn't hungrily eye-balling the bit of hip bone exposed by the odd sitting position.)

"Awww, didn't even humor me. I'm hurt. Wounded, even. I think I'm bleeding."

"Even with how much you consume, I sincerely doubt ketchup stains could be counted as blood splatter in any situation. I'm sure you'll survive."

"Dunno about that. You seen the prop blood kids use on their halloween costumes these days? Ketchup might just be an improvement."

An undignified snort of repressed laughter was Sans' reward, causing him to flash a triumphant grin Edge' way before he settled more comfortably into Red's carefully maintained coccyx groove in the couch cushion, making himself right at home. He craned his neck to get a better view of the work in Edge' hands, giving Edge a clear view of unblemished neck and a shadow of a bruise on his collar bone. Apparently Sans' last session with his brother had gotten a bit… intense. Not that Red's similar bruising hadn't already given that away.

"Taking the day off to make another scarf for the kiddo?" Sans questioned. He must have decided his rag-doll impression was too uncomfortable, as Edge soon found Sans using his arm as an improvised pillow as he leaned in closer to watch the yarn steadily twist its way across the needles before falling in delicate yet tightly woven loops to the next row. The finished section was carefully caught up by a deceptively fragile hand, soft fabric of variegated red and blue rubbed between smooth digits in appreciation.

"Pretty," Sans murmured, letting it trail out of his hand as the work was flipped around to continue the next row.

Edge paused, caught off guard by the quiet compliment. He cleared his throat, trying (and likely failing) to pretend he wasn't affected as he readjusted his unconsciously loosened grip. 

"No. His Majesty decided to take the day off with his family, and I have been told I must take the time off as well. This seemed a suitable way to spend the unexpected… vacation." The last word was spewed out like something rancid and foreign, though that was a pretty accurate summation of his feelings on the matter. He was perfectly capable of doing his job without these _mandatory breaks_, thank you very fucking much. Though, he couldn't complain about the current company said interruption granted him.

Sans chuckled, shifting as he settled in as though planning to never move again, eyes remaining trained on the movement of Edge's bare hands. Coincidently, the position pressed his side closely against Edge's own, something that affected them equally if the faint blue hue on pale cheek bones was any indication. The move was obviously impulsive; a brief tension strung through Sans before slowly bleeding away as Edge failed to object to their new position; instead, Edge re-adjusted his arms in a way that allowed Sans to neatly tuck against him. The blue hue deepened, insomnia scored eyes staying fixed away from Edge' own blushing side-eye.

"This is not for Frisk," Edge bit out, then softened as he recognized his own defensive behavior at the unfamiliar situation. Sans didn't seem to pay it any mind except to flick his gaze up in inquiry. With another pointless clearing of his throat, his hands resumed their work, now with the added bonus of occasionally brushing his arm against Sans' side from the motion. Neither objected.

"At least, it is not something I started with Frisk in mind," he amended, "The yarn was something I found by chance, and the timing seemed opportune to use it."

No need to mention that the specific shades of red and blue in this yarn were what caused him to pick this particular one over all the other higher quality options available.

Sans hummed, stroking the fabric once more. "These colors look good together, all entwined like that."

Though perhaps Sans already had a pretty good idea of why he would have picked it.

Edge paused once more, looking consideringly down at Sans.

"Would you like me to show you?"

* * *

Sans startled, blinking rapidly up at Edge before getting his expression under control once more.

"What?" _Real smooth there, Sans. A+ response._

"To knit. Would you like me to show you how?" Edge definitely knew where his mind had gone with that comment, if the tiny lift at the corner of his mouth was any indication. Not his fault the specific mixture of red and blue reminded him of the abstract art of body fluid smears Red and Sans were left with after their usual activities.

(The idea that the red could be Edge's own fluids mixing with his own was only a passing thought. _Really._)

(...yeah, he wasn't even fooling himself with that line of thinking anymore. He definitely wanted it bad.)

Coming back to the present, he moved to sit more upright to accept the knitting needles Edge was offering. "Um, yeah, sure. Okay."

"No need to force yourself, Sans." That was definitely an Edge of amusement, there. Lookit the near-PhD scientist, getting flustered over _knitting._ All those blowjobs in janitor closets during his college years that failed to get a reaction out of him, and it's an offer to learn knitting that gets him feeling all worked over while barely even touching hands.

Realizing the ridiculousness of his reaction, he settled back, huffing out a laugh. "Nah, it's cool, Edgelord. Just didn't wanna break your _thread,"_ he replied, accompanied with a finger flick at the hanging yarn tail.

The abrupt movement used to emphasize the joke caused Sans' fingers to fumble the needles, almost dropping them. Edge reached around to support his hands, moving the needles into a steadier hold. His hip unconsciously moved to press closer, easing his posture with the benefit of having his full side pressed against the other, nearly forcing the smaller body to shift into his lap to accommodate the lack of space left between them.

(Not that Sans was complaining)

"Ah, just a sec," Sans said as he passed everything back. Edge was confused for a moment before he saw Sans leaning forward to pull off Red's borrowed jacket. He let it fall to the floor, exposing a shirt reading 'I'd tell you a chemistry joke but it wouldn't get a reaction' and a wrist bare except for a slim, black leather collar (the latter earning a possessive thrum from the soul behind him, as it did every time he let it show), then settled fully on the others lap, back pressed against Edge' chest to allow the other's arms to settle around him.

There, easy access with a clear view for both of them. Being able to feel the heat radiating from the other's bones was just an unintentional bonus.

Edge' body was still under him, a brief flare of heat felt between their pelvises as longer arms hovered on either side of him, unsure of where to settle.

"We need to turn over," Edge suddenly blurted out, arms coming in to enclose him.

Sans startled, glancing over his shoulder at Edge.

"What?"

"We need to yarn over. Here," Edge explained, focus firmly shoved into instructing mode as he leaned forward over Sans' shoulder. Strong hands positioned the yarn project back into Sans' hands, wrapping the yarn around the needle's tip with a gentleness any outsider watching would have been stunned by, lightly catching and pulling the yarn across the tip of Sans' finger in the process. The delicate texture and friction sent a shiver through his body. "Like this."

Oh. Yarn. _Right._ Of course that's what he said. They were doing a thing here, after all. The whole reason he was currently parked in Edge's lap, desperately trying not to just spread his legs and _grind._

...He really wasn't doing himself any favors here.

_Focus, Sans. Mind out of the gutter, even though this gutter is overflowing. Ignore the tide of temptation_. A slight shake of his head to get this thoughts back in order, and his gaze focused back on the hands cupping his own, where splashes of red and blue were spread out between them. He looked more closely at the needles, noticing for the first time that they were a smooth ivory rather than the metal or wood he saw used by the little old ladies on the city bus.

Edge must have noticed where his attention wandered, as his fingers gently squeezed his own around the thin bone length in what could be a reassuring caress before continuing to knit the row.

"It is more practical to make my own rather than wasting money on replacing a worn set. The exercise in precision control is only an additional benefit."

Trust a Papyrus-type to find a way to refine his magic even while doing a hobby common among humans lacking any magic whatsoever. It was truly impressive, really. He felt his admiration for Edge swell even more. Along with the potential swelling of something else. Finding yourself fondling another guy's magic bone could do that, especially when the desire to climb and ride a magic bone of another kind was already there and so _hard_ to resist.

"Makes sense. Bet you have a giant ballsack, though."

That earned him a slightly strangled sound from behind him, along with a raspy, "What?"

This really was fun. He might just need to take up this hobby on his own time, get a chance to work up his material.

"Y'know, your ballsack? Gotta keep all these balls somewhere, even if you got your own bones to work it with." A laugh snorted out that he couldn't hold back anymore, absently unwinding a length of yarn that tangled between his finger bones in the moment of distraction. "I'm starting to see the fun in this, Edgelord. It really leaves you in _stitches."_

A huff of exasperation was his answer. Definitely some warmth hiding there, though. Edge and Papyrus could deny it all they like, but they really did get a kick out of a good bit of wordplay. Shame his puns rarely ever fell into the "good" category. And this new interest had a lot of potential. He almost felt bad for the deluge of knitting puns Edge would be subjected to in the near future. Almost. It was bombardment of <strike>love</strike> affection, truly.

Longer fingers worked around his own to help with the untangling. A firm tug on a stubborn thread had the whole mess pulling tight, binding his hands together with bone needles and yarn trapped between. His hands were truly stuck, soft strands pulled tight in a delicious friction that he had no hope of escaping unless Edge chose to release him. Edge seemed to realize this as well, if the pause in his movements and shuddery breath were anything to go by. Another brief flare of heat felt at his backside was a pretty good hint, too.

Edge collected himself, deftly removing the rest of the strands with care. Bone tips were aligned once more as larger fingers guided smaller ones through the motions of yarnover, pull through, drop, and repeat until the whole assembly was flipped to begin the next segment anew.

"Apologies," Edge murmured from just behind his ear canal. "I'd no intention of restraining you."

"I don't mind," Sans' reply cut in nearly before Edge had a chance to finish his sentence. Another moment of stillness, surprise and consideration nearly radiating off of Edge as he was likely remembering similar moments of surprise. Moments of finding the bruising from bite marks Sans had left on Red; moments like Sans comfortably accepting a freshly flogged and floating in sub-space Red onto his lap without repulsion or question. Really, surprising Edge seemed to be a particular skill set for Sans. Couldn't say he didn't find a certain joy in it.

Leaving that particular moment to address at another time, their hands began moving in tandem once more as the piece was turned a final time, Edge announcing that they could begin the process of casting-off their finished work. One loop of red was passed over another, pulling the lower one under and through the small red opening before limply falling off the needle in a neat little knot, the process repeated with a blue loop joining the reds and so on until a tidy series of entwined reds and blues laid finished across their laps.

Sans trailed his fingers across it, noting the slightly off area towards the end where he had started "helping," but getting that warm and fuzzy feeling all the same from knowing this was something he and Edge had completed together. He quickly squashed that feeling down.

"Heh, sorry I messed it up--"

"It's perfect." Edge cut him off, not allowing him to continue that self-deprecating thought as he lifted the scarf to oh-so-slowly and loosely wrap it around Sans' exposed neck, carefully watching the sliver of profile he could see for any sign of objection. He would find none. Sans could never refuse Edge what he wanted.

Sans tuned ever so slightly to gaze back at him, gaze soft in affection he didn't really mean to put on full display, but, well, too late now. He let out another soft "heh," turning back around to leverage himself up and onto his own two feet, the warmth of Edge's body staying with him even as he shifted a step away. 

"Hate to knit and run, but I better start heading back. Don't wanna leave Paps hanging," he said while pulling Red's jacket back on, making sure the trailing ends of his new accessory were tucked securely under the collar.

"You are welcome to stay for dinner. Red should be back soon for me to start." Edge stayed seated, body language relaxed and non-pressuring. The desire for him to stay for more than just dinner was still strong in his gaze.

"Wouldn't wanna refuse, but Paps' got something special planned for tonight. Wouldn't wanna leave him without his designated taste-tester." He shuffled in place, hands finding their way back into the jacket pockets, before moving towards the door. "Tell Red I'll catch him next time, yeah? Thanks for letting me _slip_ around on you magic bone, Edgelord. See ya later."

The door was closed and locked behind him before Edge had time to come up with a proper response to that. The mental images that statement left would be enough to occupy him for while.

A moment was spent allowing himself to dwell on the possibilities of _later,_ then another to get his mental faculties back in line, and he sighed, shifting to stand and make his way to the kitchen to start prepping dinner. He didn't get any further than shifting before he felt something hard and smooth digging into the side of his leg. His direction changed, moving instead to the side to dig out the offending item, then stopping to stare in incredulous disbelief.

A pair of large, shiny blue marbles in a cardboard case sat not-so-innocently in his hand. He shouldn't be surprised at this point. He really shouldn't be.

It was a given at this point that only a Sans was capable of giving him literal case of blue balls.

* * *

It's four o'clock in the morning, and Edge' phone is buzzing an incoming text alert at him. He glances up from his paperwork, figuring it likely to be Papyrus as the only other reasonably functional individual up at this hour, and swipes to unlock his screen.

It's actually a series of texts. And not from Papyrus.

4:02am

-hey, edgelord. what d'you call a group of friends with needles?

-a _clothes_ knit community

-what'd the wife say to the sheep herder?

4:03am

-wool you just let me knit in peace?

-y'know, i like big balls and i cannot lie 

Edge sighed, taking a second to pinch his nasal ridge in fond exasperation, before opening the text dialogue to reply.

4:04am

-Sans, shouldn't you be sleeping?

There wasn't an immediate reply. He stared at the screen for a moment, waiting for the notification, before putting the phone aside to return to his paperwork. He would give it a couple minutes before deciding to get concerned over the unusual behavior.

He wasn't able to get far.

4:07am

-you know what i've always wondered? how do tall people like you actually sleep at night when the blanket can't possibly cover you from shoulders to toes?

Edge gave the phone a look that would have been much more effective had Sans been there in person to receive it himself. Shame on Sans for making the innocent device receive Edge's ire in his stead.

4:09am

-Sans

4:10am

-It's

4:11am

-FOUR O'OCLOCK IN THE FUCKING MORNING!

Yet another sigh. He instantly regretted blowing up like that. Sans was notorious for his bad sleeping habits, and that kind of reaction wouldn't help anything. Before he could try to fix it, his phone buzzed again.

4:15am

-so… can't sleep, huh?

4:16am

-...is it because of the blanket?

The regret was instantly gone. He texted back a quick "Goodnight, Sans," received a similar response back (he could hear Sans laughing from here, he swore it) and pushed the conversation to the back of his mind before getting back to work.

* * *

It had been a long day at the embassy, but it was comforting getting back into the daily routine of work after the forced sabbatical. It was only a shame that returning to work also meant returning to dealing with stuck up human politicians who thought they knew best what monsters needed to fully integrate into surface life and a peaceful co-existence. 

Locking the door behind him, he turned to find his brother splayed out on the couch, computer in his lap and headphones only covering one ear canal as his gaze returned to the screen in front of him, assured that the person who came in was someone who belonged. It seemed Edge wasn't the first person Red encountered today, if the pulled loose shirt collar, hickey-bruises, and relaxed posture were any indication. The lingering smell of sex might've also been a dead give-away.

"Heya, Boss. Ya just missed Sans," was the flippant greeting he got, accompanied by cocky, shit-eating grin. Said grin was a standard feature now whenever Sans was brought up, along with the not-quite-hidden message of _I just got a piece of what you want_.

"Indeed," was the short reply, Edge already in the process of removing boots and jacket to settle in for the evening.

_"Indeed,_ indeed. He left ya something upstairs. Little shit wouldn't tell me what it was." 

There was a fondness in the way he said 'little shit' that only a Sans-type could get away with as a term of endearment. Red must have already checked it out, if his cocky confidence was anything to go by.

Edge hummed in acknowledgment as he made his way upstairs (giving the mandatory swat of greeting and receiving a standard mix of cursing and grumbling in return; all was okay in the world, no emotional explosions eminent today). Part of him was fluttering with warmth that Sans had randomly decided to give him something, while the rest was fully prepared for some harmless yet annoying prank to smack him in the face as soon as he opened the bedroom door.

There was no prank. Only a new addition that put the text conversation from weeks ago into a new perspective.

Laid out across the bed, in an actual effort to keep the bedding neat and made, was a knitted blanket. It was a good quality yarn, shimmering a deep red in the faint light coming through the small opening between the similarly colored bedroom curtains. It was a standard size, with a few barely-noticeable stitched spots where errors common to a beginner knitter had been painstakingly fixed. What really caught his attention, though, was the good extra foot and a half of non-standard length added to the top, folded over to show variegated segments of red and blue. It wasn't the scarf he had completed with Sans; the color portions and general size of the added section didn't match up, but the similarities were still there. A reminder of that afternoon spent with just the two of them.

Edge stood there for a moment, soaking in the time and effort Sans had put into learning, practicing, and creating this for him. For them. For the time all three of them would share this bed together.

Perhaps that time would be sooner than he thought.

He finished changing into more comfortable clothes and made his way back downstairs. Red was still on the couch, now sporting a black knit cap with a suspiciously shaped red pom stuck to the top. Rounding the couch gave him a view of the front of the cap, sloppily stitched red words spelling out 'eat a dick.' Fitting, considering who it was to and from. They couldn't possibly give one another something without some form of sarcasm or insult involved. Heavens forbid they actually acknowledge they had _affection_ for one another. Then again, this was them showing affection in a way they both understood. It was comfortable.

Neither said a word. There was no point in dragging the warm and fuzzy feelings such a gesture brought out in them into the open, and no need to complicate it with the need to prove _they weren't going soft_. No need to tarnish the first physical sign of Sans really opening up to them, acknowledging this, whatever it was, as something he wanted.

Edge pulled out his phone, hesitated barely long enough to be noticed, before sending a quick "Thank You," then returning the phone to his pocket, turning on the tv, and contemplating how to show Sans just how much this gift meant to him.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by the UT series 'ain't this the life' by nilchance, and heavily draws from their amazing work. Set at an undetermined point after 'blood in the cut.'
> 
> Additional credit to nilchance for the idea of blanket issues for tall people, and the blue balls prank.  
Credit to LyraLV for their amazing attl based fic 'artificial paradises,' that played a role in the direction of this fic.  
Credit to kamari333 for the knitting idea.  
And credit for the amped up sexual tension to skerbaderb (gdi skerb).
> 
> Inspirational music: 'I Run To You' by MISSIO


End file.
